#goodbye theory man thank you for being my number one special interest for over a decade. cannot wait to watch this stream and probs cry LOL

[gamethecry]

chat... are we cooked?

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Fools in Love

Summary: He can explain how String Theory works. He can figure out Riemann Hypothesis. He can recite all the numbers of pi until he’s blue in the face. Yet somehow, Spencer Reid can’t figure out what to do for his first first anniversary. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader 

Warnings: Spencer Reid is a self-deprecating mf, Jane Austen quotes? But there’s a happy ending 

Word Count: 3128

Fools in Love

He scratches the back of neck, a nervous habit that he’s sure makes him look weak. He wants to find the perfect recipe to make a wonderful meal for Y/N. It’s his first first anniversary so Spencer’s completely lost as to what to do. Y/N deserves the most romantic dinner, especially considering how much chaos he causes. It must be a lot to put up with him, Spencer thinks. He’s even more useless when it comes to love than when it comes to cooking. While he might not be a fan of technology, given he has the Thai place down the street from his apartment on speed dial. She doesn’t deserve some take out Thai with paper plates. But he’s a scientist, a well-known and well-educated scientist who is completely failing at planning his first anniversary.

It was useless. Completely and utterly useless, Spencer thought to himself as he ran his fingers across the various titles of cookbooks. Some featured complex dishes from Korea and others were 30 minute meals of the vaguely Midwest variety. Spencer never in his entire 33 years of living felt so out of place in a library. He’s so at home in between the stacks of books, he finds the comforting words of long dead authors and intricate mathematical theories a second home. However, it seems that Spencer Reid has found the most intimidating section of the library: cooking.

And what do academics do when they are at a crossroad? Well, they call in the experts. The love expert came in the shape of Agent Derek Morgan himself. This idea just might be the most brilliant thought Spencer’s had or the dumbest, but Y/N is worth it. 

Okay, maybe it was a mistake to come to Derek, Spencer thinks as he sits in front of his friend, a coffee in his hand and an expression of pure fear on his face. 

“You want me to, what?” Spencer asks, shocked at Derek’s suggestive advice.  

“Lie in bed naked, call Y/N on the phone and make something up. You’ll be waiting in bed and then BAM! Anniversary sex,” Derek says, his eyebrows wagging as he sips his coffee. 

“Are you messing with me, Morgan?” Spencer says, his face pale from the very thought of lounging in bed naked, waiting for Y/N to come over to his apartment.

“Why not, I’m sure it would get you laid,” Derek reasons. Get me laid? Spencer and Y/N don’t get laid, he thinks. They do have sex, but it’s not getting laid. It’s more romantic and loving than just whatever Derek suggests. 

God, he can’t tell Derek that, he’d never live it down. 

“You have slept with Y/N, right?” Derek asks, suddenly nervous that he touched a nerve with his friend. As much as he likes to tease, Spencer knows that Derek doesn’t mean any harm, hence why he’s the first person he thought to come to. 

“We prefer to call it making love,” Spencer says, pretending to be very interested in his chocolate donut and trying to fight off the blush that rises to his cheeks. Even a year into their relationship, Spencer still gets butterflies at thinking about Y/N like that. 

“So you want this to be more romantic than just fucking, because you’ve done it for a year?” Derek proposes as simply as if he’s talking about a case. Not that talking about serial victims is anymore normal or weirder than the current conversation. 

“Morgan and you please stop talking about Y/N and sex in the same sentence?” Spencer says through gritted teeth. 

“Reid, kid. I’m just busting your chops, I know who you feel about Y/N. When you two are in the same room, it’s like there’s no one else in the world. And it’s kinda hard to get your mind to focus on one thing, but Y/N does that,” 

“I know,” Spencer says. “I can’t mess this up Derek. I can’t give another person a reason to leave me,” 

“Y/N won’t leave because you can’t plan a terrible anniversary dinner,” Derek says comfortingly. 

“I checked out 7 cookbooks, Morgan. 7, and I read them on the metro home. It’s useless, I’m useless,” Spencer laments.

He looks up to try to read Derek’s expression. The last thing he’d want to see on his face is pity or worse laughter. No, Spencer. Derek is your best friend. He’s the closest thing you have to a brother. Spencer feels almost guilty for thinking that Derek would laugh at him, while he might like to tease him, especially about his lovelife, they trust each other inexplicably. What’s written on Derek’s face is not pity or ridicule, it’s a smile. A smile not for Spencer, but for the colorful woman walking towards their table. 

“You told Garcia?” Spencer groans, but scooting over so Penelope would have a spot to sit with them. 

“Of course I told Garcia, kid. You know better than anyone that we can’t keep anything secret,” Derek explains, leaning in to kiss Garcia’s hand. 

“Spencer Reid! I can’t believe you,” Garcia says, smacking Spencer’s arm lightly. 

“Garcia!” Spencer shouts, clutching his coffee and hunching down in his seat to avoid being hit by the tech goddess with her hard rings on her surprisingly strong hands. 

“Don’t Garcia me, Reid. You need me, whether or not you realize it or not. I’m irreplaceable,” she tells him, grabbing a pink notebook and a fluffy green pen from her bag. 

Spencer nods in understanding, as much as he hates it, he knows that he needs help. It’s just a hard pill to swallow when help comes in the form of Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia, perhaps the two people on Earth who are the most in love. 

“I know I need you guys,” Spencer says, looking from Garcia to Derek, half expecting them to tell him to order some terrifying sex toy from a scretchy store on the edge of town or something equally horrifying. 

“What’s something that she likes? You know like a special thing that Y/N would never think about getting herself” Garcia asks, making notes with the fluffy when that bounces as she writes. 

“She likes to read,” Spencer suggests, thinking about the first date that they had. They talked for hours about their favorite books and ended up getting booted from the library for overstaying their welcome. Y/N found it quite endearing that The Little Prince is Spencer’s while her is anything and everything by Jane Austen. He thinks back to her eyes gleamed when talking about the book, or how passionate she got when she argued that Mr Knightley and Emma were soulmates. 

“Okay, that’s a start Spencer. Really good,” Garcia says, trying to boost her friend’s confidence. 

“What else?” Derek asks, thinking about the times when he and Y/N hang out with Spencer and Penelope. 

“Fret not, Boy Wonder,” Garcia says, softly patting Spencer’s shoulder, “I’ll take care of this,” she finishes as she reaches into her bag, that seems to have a never ending bottom, and pulls out a laptop. 

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“So Garcia and Morgan took over your anniversary plans and basically just made it how they’d want to spend their anniversary?” JJ offers, as she hands Spencer a beer from her refrigerator and sits back down at her kitchen table. 

Spencer takes a swig of his beer and shrugs his shoulders, thinking about how wrong this whole anniversary dinner has gone. 

“I just wanted this to be special, JJ. I know it’s only been a year, but Y/N is it for me. God, she was it for me on the third date,” Spencer confesses. 

“I know, Spence. I’ve never seen you this happy. Happiness looks good on you,” JJ tells him. 

“Y/N makes me happy, she puts up with me, so the least I can do is make this perfect for her,” 

“Spence, don’t sell yourself short,” JJ says, “You’re a kind man and a wonderful boyfriend, you’re both lucky to have each other,” 

“Thank you, JJ, but Y/N is the better person in this relationship. That’s why this needs to be perfect,” Spencer explains, his self doubt still littering his mind. 

“What about a baseball game? You can pay for a message to pop up on the Jumbotron. Like Happy Anniversary, Y/N,” JJ suggests, and Spencer really can’t tell if JJ is joking. She can’t possibly think that Y/N and he would have a romantic anniversary with the threat of getting pelted in the face with a baseball. 

“Sports games are not our forte, JJ. I honestly can’t tell who’d hate sitting in the sun for hours with angry sports fans,” Spencer adds. 

“Okay so no sports, I should have figured, Spence,” JJ winks knowingly. “How about this, think about somewhere that’s special to you two. Somewhere that makes you think of her,” 

“The thing is JJ, everyplace we’ve been together makes me think of her. The elevator when she first kissed me, the movie theater we always go to on Saturday nights, even the sidewalk outside my apartment building. Everything makes me think of her because she’s my everything,” Spencer says, hiding his discomfort at the conversation. 

“Spence, I think that anything you plan, will be wonderful. Have a little trust in yourself for once, Y/N is already head over heels in love with you, so I doubt that she’d really care where you go or what you do,” JJ advises, clearing up the dirty dishes from their Friday night pizza dinner with the boys. 

“I’m going to go JJ, thanks for talking me out of my head. If I took Morgan’s advice, I’d probably end up with a restraining order,” Spencer jokes, putting his jacket on and saying goodbye to his friend. 

“You think you need an Uber?” JJ asks, but immediately finds amusement from Spencer’s disgust at the idea of getting into an Uber. 

“Germs and technology sound like a nightmare, JJ. And I’m not going to remind you of the statistics regarding missing persons and those rideshare apps-” Spencer offers, but is cut off by JJ’s pretend annoyance. 

“Remind me to send Y/N combat pay, you know maybe she is a saint for putting up with you,” JJ teases. 

He walks out into the chill of the night, recounting the advice his friends gave him. Derek and Penelope’s plan was a little outlandish, a little too much for Spencer and Y/N. JJ, who Spencer knows means well, only served to remind him of how hard it must be with him. His steps are slow and languid, but his mind anything but. 

One step, you’re probably just a charity case that Y/N decided to save. 

Two steps, why on Earth would a woman like her even look at a man like you.

Three steps, you’re so pathetic that you can’t even plan a dinner for her. She’s too good for Spencer, you’ll ruin her. 

Everyone who you love leaves you or dies, anyway.

It’s that thought, not the thought of being alone, but the thought that he deserves to be alone that sends the tears down his cheeks. 

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Somehow, someway, Spencer made it back to his apartment. It never felt so dark, so unlike home. Maybe he just didn’t never realized that these walls aren’t home without Y/N. He really should try to get to sleep, but he’d rather fend off sleep with the endless supply of coffee than have to face a night alone in the cold bed. 

Just as Spencer makes his way to prepare a cup of coffee, he hears a distant jiggle of keys and the door knob rattle. And in comes Y/N, as fresh as the cup of coffee brewing and as beautiful as ever. 

“Happy Anniversary, my love,” Y/N tells him, dropping the bags on the floor. She moves over to him like a light breeze. All he wants is to welcome her embrace. He wants to scoop her up and carry her far away from the monsters that lie in wake. He feels an urge to be her protector, but how can be her protector when what he really wants is to be protected. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here, it’s so late,” Spencer says, praying that his voice doesn’t let go. He knows it’s futile, one look from Y/N, her palm to his cheek or even worse a chaste kiss on his forehead, Spencer would not be able to think. What is a genius without his mind? 

“I couldn’t wait for tomorrow, Spence, I just missed you too much,” Y/N says, her voice a prayer that spins around in Spencer’s brain, searching for refuge in his heart. 

“You really missed me?” Spencer asks, desperately wanting to believe her beyond belief. Y/N’s frown searches for an answer in Spencer’s distant expression. Even though they stand there with the kitchen light casting shadows touching as much skin as they can reach, Spencer is a million miles away.

“Of course I missed you, baby. And I just had to give you one of your gifts tonight. I just couldn’t wait to see your face,” Y/N says, practically bouncing as she bounds off to get the package for Spencer. 

“So this is only the first part, and stay with me, I know how much you hate technology, but I think you’ll make an excuse for this,” She tells him, handing him a heavy cube shaped package. It’s decorated in Y/N’s handwritten flowers and hearts, and a cute doodle of who Spencer can only assume is them. His girlfriend may not be artistic. But she’s the artist who paints the stars in Spencer’s night sky. She’s the tailor who sewed him back up when he was broken. She’s the architect who has the key and blueprint to his heart. 

Spencer opens the gift, his hands shaky and unsure. He’s terrified that Y/N can see right though him. He reveals the present. It’s a small wooden box with a red wooden heart that looks like it’s supposed to be pixelated. There’s a blank space on the top, that Spencer supposes is a screen.

“You gotta plug it in, Spence. So the messages can pop up. When you're far away from me saving the world, I can type a message from my phone and it’ll appear on your box,” she explains. Spencer looks up at her trying to search for what he did to get this lucky. 

“Thank you, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Spencer tells her, placing a kiss against her forehead. It’s the kind of kisses that tell you so much more. It’s the kind of kiss you give when you know there’s more where that one came from. It’s safe and warm and everything good about this world. 

“I gotta make sure you won’t forget me when you go traipsing all over the country. A hot genius like you only comes around so often. I’m sure you got loads of attractive people throwing themselves at you, Spence,” she says with a wink. 

“Hot genius?” Spencer repeats half dumbfounded and half joking. 

“Yup, I gotta make sure they know that you’re spoken for,” 

“I couldn’t forget you even if I tried, Y/N. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I still don’t know what I did to ever deserve you,” Spencer says, as the tears and the fears of not being good enough bubble to the surface. 

“Spencer, baby. You’re shaking. What’s the matter? Huh,” she says softly, brushing her hand over Spencer’s head in a comforting and loving gesture. 

Spencer leans into her, his head pressed into her neck. He can hear her heartbeat and he can smell her perfume. He wants to get lost in her. Get lost in the feeling of total and complete love. 

“I just wanted this to be perfect, Y/N. For you- you deserve so much more than I can give. It must be so hard dating me. I know that I’m difficult to love sometimes,” Spencer murmurs, his tears pouring down his cheeks and spilling like his darkest thoughts onto Y/N’s shirt. 

“Spencer, you make my life so much brighter. So much fuller. I know that you got a lot going on up in that mind of yours and it must be kinda scary. It must be hard always being the guy people expect answers from. But I got you, sweetheart. And I’m not letting go,” Y/N tells him the words falling from lips like a psalm and taking on a new life in Spencer’s heart. 

“Thank you, Y/N. I really wanted this to be the best anniversary. I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Spencer apologizes as he peppers light, feathery kisses along her collarbone and up to her eyes. 

“Well you’re my mess, Spencer. Let’s be honest, I’d be completely happy to spend our anniversary anywhere with you. Except maybe sports games, that sounds like torture for both of us,” Y/N laughs and Spencer can’t get over how she practically glows in the kitchen light. It could be that his mind is foggy with love, but Spencer hopes that he never grows out of this blissful feeling. 

“Well it’s a good thing we’ll have many more to make up for this one,” Spencer says, letting himself get dragged to the large fluffy sofa. 

“Oh no, Mister. The next 50 anniversaries have to try to top this one,” Y/N tells him and Spencer’s heart skips and flutters at the thought of having another 49 anniversaries with Y/N by his side. 

“I doubt that 50 will be enough, Y/N” 

“As long as you’ll allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” Y/N says, cuddling so close to Spencer that she can’t see where her limbs start and Spencer’s end. 

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” Spencer says running his spidery fingers down Y/N’s side much to her delight. 

“Ooh are you trying out some Jane Austen foreplay? Because that’s the way to make my panties drop,” Y/N says suggestively as she rubs her hand over Spencer’s chest and rests it on his neck. 

“Maybe tomorrow, I just really want to hold you close right now, Y/N.” Spencer says, sweetly kissing along her temple exciting a bout of giggles from the two of them. 

Spencer very well might be useless when it comes to love, but he was eager to learn that he’s worthy of love from his love expert. 

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

The World Looks Red [Keigo Takami/Hawks]

Tag List: @mx-irony

Please read the afternote for more information.

Hate was too strong a word; Aina hated shots, but how she felt about romance was roughly similar. There was no word to exactly describe it. She felt uneasy with the aspect of love; enough said.

This is why – for the second time this week – she turned down her fellow workmate whenever the eccentric young woman tried to set her up on a blind date.

“Oh come on. It’s one itsy bitsy date,” Ikumi stated. She leaned over the teller desk and brushed her long hair behind her ear. “Besides … you may even meet the person you were meant to be with.”

Aina teasingly rolled her eyes. That was the tackiest thing she’d ever heard, but no less true.

These days soulmates were as common as the development of Quirks, albeit the phenomenon hadn’t been around quite as long – give or take fourteen years. The exact cause was unknown, but rumors were that someone in the country of Japan manifested a powerful Emitter-type Quirk and altered humanity.

No one came forward with proof of such claim, so no one really knew for sure. What they did know was that Japan was the only country at this time affected. It swept the island like a plague, and at the young age of eight, the vibrant world Aina knew ceased to exist.

All traces of color washed away. It didn’t necessarily peter out, but those affected by it could no longer see color. It was like a monochrome lens was inserted into each and every eye. Then came the awakening.

A woman in her late thirties claimed that she could still make out colors; her spouse claimed the same. Tests were administered, but to no benefit.

That was nearly three days after the phenomenon occurred, and since then, more and more people regained their loss. Each and every one of them were either married or found that a simple touch helped them see again. The only rationalized theory – Quirk experts believed – was that true love reversed the Quirk.

Bull; utter bull. Aina didn’t believe it to be true. How could people assume that love was fixed? Her parents loved each other very much; neither of them were lucky enough to have their sight returned.

Not to say that it wasn’t true, however. Couples found one another, all claiming to be awakened. The woman Aina worked for was one of them. She found love – years after the death of her husband – and swore the world lit up again.

“Doubt I will ever be that lucky. The boss didn’t meet her soulmate until she was in her late forties,” Aina explained.

The term soulmate was coined by high schoolers. It stuck like glue.

Ikumi snorted. “It’s not like they’re going to just fall into your lap. Go and meet them half way. This bank isn’t the best place to start.”

“Who knows … maybe I will meet them after I leave here. Doesn’t hurt to touch every random guy or girl on the street and hope for the best,” she joked.

Ikumi again snorted.

Now that she thought about it, she didn’t even know why Aina was leaving early in the first place.

“You took a half day, right? How come?”

Aina curled up her nose. “I have an appointment. Flu season; the doctor insists I get a shot.”

Mother insisted actually. She worked at Fukuoka Kinen Hospital. The doctor was a friend of hers and offered to see Aina. However, the only way he could fit her into his schedule was if she took a half day. Aina would have rather avoided it, but her mother was a tough one to negotiate with.

“Tough break,” Ikumi said with a look of pity. “Shots are so annoying.”

Aina nodded in agreement. You can say that again.

She waved goodbye to her friend and left through the bank doors. The outside air was much more refreshing. Aina stretched her arms over her head and yawned. When she opened her eyes, they drifted up to the heavens.

Not being able to see colors really sucked at times. She missed the color green; it was her favorite. The foliage around her house was always so pretty when she was a child. Now it just looked like the rest of the world; grey and bleak. If there was anything to regret, it was the fact she took it all for granted.

“Ma’am … watch out.”

Aina knotted her brows and turned her head to the side. She didn’t notice it before, but someone was running towards her. He was a tall individual with a cowlick in his hair.

Before she understood what was happening, he dashed forward and snatched her by the arm. A gun was pressed to the side of her head as he forced her closer to his chest. That’s when she noticed the police; four of them.

The hell was going on?

“Make a move and I will shoot her,” the man yelled in her ear.

Am I being used as a hostage?

For some reason the hard truth was not sinking in. She never thought she’d be in a situation like this. The man held her close as he shouted at the police. Aina could hardly understand him. Her heart felt like it was beating out of control.

She thought she was going to die.

But, the villain suddenly let out a loud shriek and dropped the gun. In his hand was a red feather. Aina stared at it in shock. She never even thought about running.

How is it that I can see the color?

Before she or the police could even react, the furious man shoved her forward and activated his quirk. Aina felt her entire body lift into the air; tossed with such intensity that her head began to spin. She screamed in fear, but nothing could prevent what had already been done.

She felt like she may be sick. Her sight quickly came back and she glanced down at the street beneath her. Everyone looked so tiny – she realized the gravity of the situation and knew that she might not survive this.

Not wanting to see how fast the pavement was advancing on her, she closed her eyes tight. It was better this way.

A pair of arms slid beneath her own and suddenly she wasn’t falling any more. But how? Another quirk? Aina opened her eyes. What she saw brought tears to her eyes.

Scarlet feathers; they twirled and glided in the sky around her. But how? She didn’t understand any of this.

“They are so beautiful.” Aina had never seen anything so pretty.

A soft laugh brought her to reality again. She now remembered – someone had saved her. There was only one person she knew of in Fukuoka who had wings. Hawks; the number 2 hero.

She glanced back in his direction with the intent to thank him. Tears leaked down her cheeks.

His keen eyes were wide with shock. There was no way he was seeing this. Color ignited in her eyes; so blue and so beautiful. Keigo nearly dropped her as she stared up at his wings. It made him wonder why he could not see anymore than what was being shown to him.

“Who are you?”

Aina felt her face heat up. “I’m … not anyone.”

“Must be someone, for us to have met like this. Like it was fated,” he said with a smile.

She puckered her brow. “Isn’t it your job as a hero? There is nothing fated about it.”

“A skeptic; that’s something.”

Aina nodded in agreement. “It’s a little cliché to me.”

“No doubt about that,” Keigo said. He saw the police arrest the villain and flew down with the intent to set her on the ground. Once she was out of his arms, her eyes faded out. “Have to admit though, it’s nice to see color again.”

Even though her eyes were the only source.

With the ambulance on the way, Keigo knew that his job was done. Yet he couldn’t force himself to leave. He reached out and touched her shoulder just to be sure. Her eyes again ignited with shades of blue and green; colors he could only remember seeing as a small child before he went colorblind.

“Isn’t this something?”

Aina stared at him a minute. The wings behind him faded to grey once he removed his hand. It saddened her a little.

“I guess this means we are soulmates.”

Keigo puckered a brow. “You sound let down. I’m not that bad of a guy.”

“Don’t take it that way,” Aina said in a panic. She brought up her hands in defense. “I just … don’t know how to deal with this. Where do we even go from here?”

He wasn’t sure himself. The idea of love wasn’t something Keigo had even thought about before. He was a pro hero. Love was merely something he thought may have passed him by – until today. It was too soon for him to say, but he could not deny that there was something special about her. She was easy on the eyes too.

Keigo combed back his hair. What to do? He honestly did not want to lose this chance to see color again. “How about diner? My treat, of course.”

Her face again felt warm. Should she? The thought scared her. She did not like change, but the color she saw interested her.

“I suppose. My name is Aina by the way.”

He sat his hands on his sides – a move she often saw heroes do; it made her smile. “Hawks, but you can call me your hero if you like.”

Aina chuckled. Easy on the eyes and able to make her laugh; maybe this wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t totally convinced it was fated, however. Just part of his job. Her being there was just coincidence.

But maybe not. Aina decided that looking at it with an open mind was probably the best idea. For her sake, anyway. She exchanged numbers with Hawks and spoke with him until the ambulance came. Once he was gone, she clutched her phone to her chest and smiled.

Had she really found her soulmate?

--

A/n: There is a sequel in the works. More Hawks and more Aina. 

[hazelmariewrites]

The Witch’s Burden: Chapter One

I’ve edited chapter one for draft two and I decided to share this snippet with you guys! Of course this might not be the same as the final product, but I’m happy enough with where it stands now to put it out into the world.

***

This fairy is being a huge pain in my ass. I know she did it—I can feel her guilt undoubtedly burning through my senses. I can also feel her trying her hardest to charm me, but the interrogation room had has prepped with iron in anticipation of this. There was a law passed years ago prohibiting the use of iron handcuffs on fey, but nothing saying that we couldn’t keep it in the room to weaken their resolve.

To anyone else she would seem harmless. Her petite body, blonde curls, and big brown eyes give off no hints of danger. Unfortunately for her, she reeks of fey. I had recognized it before I even laid eyes on her. The euphoric sensation, smell of lilac, and glittery haze had enveloped me as soon as I stepped foot into the coffee shop where she had been working in an attempt to pass as human.

My intuition is a unique ability that has fostered success as a detective at the Chicago Supernatural Police Department. Most witches have a specific skill that they are more gifted with than others, but a few—myself included—find themselves further equipped. I’m able to recognize other supernaturals, and different breeds present themselves to me in different ways. 

“I know you’re just doing your job,” the fairy says, “but I didn’t do it. I loved him, and my heart is broken by what happened to him.”

Her eyebrows pull together, and her eyes immediately begin to fill with false tears. A man had been found dead of apparent suicide on the upper East side, but the CSPD had reason to believe that there was supernatural involvement. When I discovered that his girlfriend was a fairy, it made sense. Fey are notorious for jealous violence.

“What did he do to deserve it?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat. “Was he seeing someone else on the side? Forget your anniversary?”

She shakes her head solemnly, but I can feel her anger boiling, so I continue. “Maybe he just got bored, then. Human men have the shortest attention spans, don’t they?”

I felt a shift, and her tears immediately stop. I push harder. “Maybe he never even loved you. Maybe he was just using you.”

Her face twists into a horrible expression as she begins to scream furiously. “He brought it on himself! I did everything for him. I broke laws to give him his dreams, and he repaid me by leaving! He thought he could do better! He’s better off dead!”

I sit back and let my shoulders slump in exhausted relief. She continues to scream as the door to the interrogation room opens and two uniformed officers unchain her to escort her to a cell. Jack comes over the intercom, “Good job Rebecca. Meet me in my office.”

Jack is my captain and mentor. When I first joined the CSPD seven years ago I was a meek, self-conscious girl with little knowledge about Chicago’s supernatural population. I knew only that there was a side of myself that I needed to attend to, and Jack helped me do just that. Jack himself was a warlock, so he took me under his wing. He helped me fine tune my abilities and grow into a half-decent witch and detective. 

When I get to Jack’s office the door is cracked open, so I knock lightly as I push it open further. He’s sitting at his desk, his head bent over a scattering of paperwork. As I enter his head shoots up. “Rebecca,” he greets, pushing the papers aside. “Congratulations on cracking that fairy. I was starting to worry, but I don’t know why. Doubting you never seems to do me any good.”

I smile with pride at his comment. Jack and I have butted heads a few times as I’ve been working to find my place at the department, but ultimately I’ve earned his trust. He stands and motions to the door, shoving the paperwork into his bag.

“Let’s go to Len’s,” he says, referring to our usual bar. I nod in agreement and follow him out. It’s well into fall, which means that it’s cold as hell outside. I zip up my puffy coat as we step out onto the street, but it does little against the biting wind.

“It’s a damn good thing Len’s is only a block away,” I grumble, earning a laugh from Jack. Jack’s best skill is fire, and as a result he’s able to warm himself with little trouble. I feel a wave of heat as he extends his magic to me. “Thank you,” I sigh in relief.

When we reach Len’s I’m glad to see that it’s namesake is nowhere to be found. The owner of the bar runs a tight ship, but when he’s gone our favorite bartenders sometimes give us special deals for being easy customers. We slide into our favorite booth just as a leggy brunette comes up to greet us.

“Hey there you two,” she says, grinning down at me. Shit. Bailey. I was supposed to call her after our date last week. I try to give her a genuine smile, but I’m worried that it comes across as more of a grimace. I’m not good at awkward situations, or at hiding my true emotions. 

Jack and I both order the same beer, as tall as we can get them. When Bailey walks away, Jack glares at me. “I see the tension, kid. Don’t you dare ruin this bar for me.”

I wave him off. “It’s not a big deal, I’ll call her later.” Jack rolls his eyes but doesn’t push me further. We talk about the fairy case for a while until Bailey brings us our beer. She hovers for a moment, but when she realizes that I’m not going to explain myself—at least, not in front of Jack—she finally leaves.

“Here’s the thing, Rebecca,” Jack says after a long drink. “I didn’t just ask you here because you did a good job today, although you did. A damn good one, actually.”

I raise my eyebrow at him. “There’s another case, and I’d like you to take charge on this one.”

Color me interested. “Go on,” I prompt, taking a drink from my own beer.

“There was a vampire attack in Logan Square last week,” he explains. “There had been several disappearances in the area, so now we’re starting to wonder if there’s a connection. If there is, we need to follow it and find the missing people.”

“You had me at vampire,” I say darkly. Jack knows my thoughts about vampires, as well as the reasoning, which I’m sure is why he’s chosen me for the case. He knows I’ll do just about anything to take down a bad vampire.

“That’s my girl,” Jack says, holding out his glass. I touch mine to his and we both take a long drink. “Aaron, the rookie, is the one who came across the vampire on a patrol. Maybe talk to him, and of course interview the vampire.”

I press my lips together. I don’t love the idea of being in such close quarters with a vampire, but I’ve done it before. In fact, the last time I checked I had the highest number of vampire arrests at the precinct. Not that I discriminate—I’ve never arrested one who didn’t wholly deserve it. My ranking is purely due to the fact that I’m one of the only ones in our department who has the guts to face off to a vampire in the first place.

Jack and I finish our beers and order another round as we discuss other things. I talk about a concert I went to see a few days ago, and Jack tells me about his great-great-grandson’s first spell casting. Family is important to Jack, especially as he’s getting older. At three-hundred and sixty-two years old he only has about another century and a half left in him. 

I’m the first to leave, citing Mike, my dog, as an excuse. I do have to get home to feed him, but I’m also ready to crawl into bed and process everything that’s gone on today. Jack gives me the stack of papers he was reading when I got to his office. They’re all articles about the disappearances. I take them eagerly and leave the bar. I barely make it a few hundred feet outside before I hear Bailey calling my name.

I stop, curse to myself, and turn around. Great, she’s chasing after me. I was really hoping she would just give up so we wouldn’t have to have this conversation. The smile on her face makes my chest constrict.

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” she says, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat. She looks adorable, her nose just starting to turn pink from the cool air.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just been a long day.”

“Is that why you haven’t called me?” she asks. “Lots of long days?”

I sigh and shift on my feet. “Look, Bailey, I’m sorry I didn’t call you but I’m just not good at this, okay? I’m not good at relationships. I should have told you that sooner.”

Her smile starts to fade. “Oh,” is all she says.

“You’re amazing,” I assure her. “It’s nothing to do with you. I just have a lot going on and I should have known better than to start something I couldn’t follow through on.”

Bailey’s face pinches, like she’s holding back whatever emotion really wants to show through her features. “Yeah, you should have,” she says before turning to walk back to Len’s. I think about calling out to her, but I don’t. What’s the use? Instead I turn the opposite way and start back off toward my apartment.

Before I can even fully open the door to the one-bedroom where I live, Mike shoves his nose through the opening and pushes it the rest of the way. He jumps up, hovering on his hind legs in greeting. I smatter him with scratches, kisses, and sweet names before pushing past him to enter the living room.

My apartment isn’t fancy, but the fact that I’m able to even afford anything in a safe neighborhood on my CSPD salary is nothing short of a miracle. It took a lot of research, negotiation, and meditating with my green aventurine gemstones.

I microwave leftovers, because I don’t have the same affinity for heat that Jack does, and settle in the floor in front of my coffee table to dig into the food as well as the stack of papers that Jack gave me. The articles are all similar. Since crime isn’t at all unusual in Chicago, the first article details three people—two women, one man—missing from the area. If gives the basic run down of who they are and why they were in the area, and goes on to pose theories about what could have happened. They propose that maybe this is the product of gang initiation, or that maybe the disappearances are drug related. As the count rises, however, the articles gradually steer toward the conclusion that this is a case of serial kidnapping.

The disappearances span over only three months, making them hard to ignore. The Chicago Police Department—the vanilla one—has continually insisted that they cannot make any statements at this time without putting the case in jeopardy. That’s code for they don’t have shit. They only advise that people be cautious, travel in groups, and don’t spend time in the area if they don’t have to.

The kidnappings only take place at night. Of course they do, because vampires are burned by sunlight. It’s one of the classic myths about them that actually turns out to be true. They can eat all the garlic they wish and have no aversion to silver, but one step into the daylight and that’s it.

I take a too-big bite of an egg roll before standing and going to my book shelf. I run my index finger across the many spines until I land on a book that Jack gave me when I was still in training. Vampyrica: A History of the Living Dead.

I sit on my couch with my back against an arm and open the book as Mike jumps up and settles in at my feet. I thumb through the various chapters, looking for anything that might give me an idea of how the vampires are managing the kidnappings. Vampires don’t age, vampires have no reflection, vampires do not turn into bats…

Certain vampires, though few in number, have the ability to compel their victims into following their commands. These vampires are often high leaders, as their ability makes it easier for them to feed and become stronger.

I dog ear this page and slip the book into my work bag, planning to question our vampire about his coven’s leader and their abilities. Not that I can be sure he’ll share much.

It’s not that I’ve never partnered with double-crossers. In fact, I’d done so fairly recently when we were tracking a werewolf pack in the suburbs. It’s that I have a deep-rooted distrust and hatred toward vampires that’s been fermenting for twenty-three years. Something that I’ve never even considered budging on.

I’m the one who found my parents afterward. I knew something was wrong, but was too young to realize how exactly I knew. Looking back, I recognize that my intuition began at an early age. I felt wrong, and I wanted my parents’ comfort, so I went looking for them. They were in the kitchen. Their bodies were sprawled across the floor.

I called out to them. They didn’t answer. I approached them, and I’ll never stop wishing I hadn’t. I screamed before running upstairs to my room. I hid for what must have been hours, then remembered what they had told me to do if they were ever hurt or if someone broke into the house. It took a while to build up the courage, but eventually I sprinted to the wall phone in the hallway and called 9-1-1.

I lived with my grandmother after that. Before, I hadn’t gotten to see her much. I know now that it’s because my father wanted to keep me sheltered from our heritage. He himself was not a warlock, because in our family it’s only women who have the gift. He knew enough, however, that he and my mother had decided before I was born that they didn’t want my grandmother’s influence around me. I can’t imagine the life I would have lived if they hadn’t died.

I open my eyes and groan, frustrated that I can’t seem to clear my negative thoughts. Mike lifts his head and gives me a concerned expression. I lean over to give him a reassuring pat, then force myself off the couch to clear up my mess. In the kitchen I brew a sleeping potion, knowing that I’ll need quality sleep to prepare for the day ahead.

Tag list: @clarissalopeswriter@cloudyskycloudymind @snowdropwrites @writerfromthesea@vhum @blueinkblot 

[tatekitkylejimmyjamesrorylover]

You’re The Brightest Light I’ve Ever Seen Tate Langdon x Reader

Words: 2,108

Description: You move into the murder house after some unfortunate event occurred

Request: Anonymous:  Thought this might be interesting, but the reader has a power that if she touches another living person they die. Which has caused her to cut off everyone in fear of killing them. Till one day her parents allow her to live alone in the murder house to keep everyone safe from her. She ends up getting really close with Tate and instead of being the darkness, he becomes the 'light' in her world. Since he is all she has in her small world.

Author’s Note: I apologize so much for not being active! I promise to make it up to all 431 followers!!! Thank you so much! I love you guys XOXO

 2006

          I was eight years old. I was so young and innocent to have this curse on my shoulders. I was playing on the playground with my two best friends. A big thunderstorm rolled in out of nowhere. We were jumping rope and writing with chalk on the sidewalk. It rained. It poured. I didn’t understand why it didn’t affect my friends. They were with me. They got soaked. The storm quickly passed over. We were kids, we didn’t run off when the rain came, we played in the rain instead. I walked over to my friends so that we could come up with our secret friendship handshake. It all happened so fast. They were on the ground. Their bodies lifeless. Then the sirens came. I watched as two men came and dragged their bodies off. I stood there speechless. The paramedic came over.

           “Sweetheart, do you know what happened here?” He asked crouching down. I looked down not knowing how to answer. I looked up at him and told him what happened.

           “I just touched them. It’s all my fault they’re gone.” I paused realizing what had happened, what I had done. “IT’S MY FAULT!” I screamed. The man tried to reach over to comfort me but I stopped him.  “Don’t touch me. I’ll just hurt you.” I said crying. 

           “You didn’t kill them. You can’t hurt me. It’s all alri..” The man stopped. He died. He reached over and touched my shoulder. Another person I had killed. I needed to get away. A couple minutes later my mom and dad came. I was surrounded by police officers.

           “Let us through, that’s our daughter.” My mom and dad said, “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” My mother reached over and hugged me. She was unaffected. She helped me up and took me to the car. I opened the backseat door and buckled myself in. My parents then got in. The car ride was silent. It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. A few minutes later we arrived home. I got out and ran to the unlocked door. I ran to my room, slamming the door.

          “Sweetheart may we come in?” My mom said as she knocked. I didn’t answer but they came in anyways. “We have something to tell you (Y/N).” my mom said as she sat next to me on the bed.

          “Is it answers on why I seem to kill everything I touch except for you guys? If so then continue.” I said.

           “It is answers. (Y/N), you have powers. It is passed on to you from us. It doesn’t affect us because we have it as well. You get powers by a storm passing and raining on you. We tried to protect you because we didn’t want you to have this curse. I’m so sorry baby.” my mom said.

            “That’s all I needed. Now get out. My friends are dead, I need some time to myself if you don’t mind.” I said. 

             “Of course. Take as much time as you need.” My dad said as they both left.

          That is how I found out I had powers and an even more unsteady path down my life.

2014

          Ever since that day I have been home schooled. I am now sixteen and I have not left my property since that awful day. Mom thought that if I stayed away from people then maybe the curse would go away. I was going to test that theory. I had met a boy when I was twelve who newly moved in next door. We would play from our backyards. I will say that he has grown up quite nicely and he was taking me on a date to a movie theater. I was excited. He was coming to pick me up at six and it was four. I got up and went to take a shower. After the shower I got dressed and waited. A knock then soon came. I leaped off the couch and opened the door.

          “Hi Jacob!” I said. He had blue eyes and brown hair. He was dressed in a blue dress shirt and black pants.

          “Are you ready?” Jacob asked. I shook my head vigorously. He offered me his arm but I declined not wanting to hurt him. He opened the door to his truck letting me in first. It was a smooth drive to the movie theater. “Do you want anything? Soda? Popcorn? Candy?” He asked.

           “I’m fine thank you.” He got what he wanted then handed our tickets to the man. 

          “How to Live Life, number seven on the left. Enjoy your movie.” The man said with a sarcastic voice.

           “Jeez someone doesn’t like their job!” I said as we both laughed. We arrived at the doors and he opened the doors and let me chose where we were going to sit. 

            “I can’t wait to watch this movie! I heard it’s supposed to be really good!” Jacob said.

            “Yeah same!” The lights soon dimmed and the movie began. I was keeping to myself keeping aware of where my hands were so I didn’t hurt him. The movie ended and he drove me home. He walked me to my front door.

           “I had a really good time tonight.” Jacob said.

           “I did too.” I said as I smiled. We stood there awkwardly for a minute just staring at each other. He leaned in and I didn’t stop him our lips collided and then all of a sudden he drops.

           “JACOB?!” I scream as I back away. I banged on my door. My parents opened it and grabbed me and pulled me inside. “What do I do?” I ask.

          “You go into your room (Y/N) and stay there.” my mom said as I rushed to my room.

       It was too late Jacob died and it was my fault. That day was when I realized that this would never go away. My parents had a plan and that when I turned eighteen I would move to a house by myself called Murder House. It was perfect and I couldn’t wait until that day would come.

2016

        It was moving day and I couldn’t wait. I just wanted to get away from everyone so that I could no longer hurt them. It was a long drive to Murder House, but I didn’t mind. It was worth it in the end.

       After an hour we arrived. I quickly got out of the moving truck and unlatched the back of the truck. I picked up the first five boxes I see. My mom comes out and laughs as she sees how eager I am to move in and be on my own. 

“Careful sweetie. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” My mom says as she laughs. She grabs the top two boxes off the top and helps me.

I unlock the door and take in my surroundings. The house is so beautiful that I had to pinch myself to make sure it was real. I went upstairs and picked out my bedroom. I let out a sigh and breathed it all in. I went downstairs to finish unloading.

After four hours I was finally settled in and I had said goodbye to my parents. I went into the living room and sat down on the couch turning on the television. I just watched the first thing that was on and didn’t think much about it. A couple minutes after I just got comfortable, the doorbell rang. I groaned as I got up and went to the door. I opened it and was met with very dark brown eyes.

“Hi, I’m Tate Langdon, your neighbor. I saw you move in and figured I would say hello.” Tate said. He held out his hand and I just stared at it for a little bit.

“Sorry, I’m a huge germophobe. Anyways, I’m (Y/N),” I said as I smiled at him.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Tate said. I blushed furiously and looked down but then looked up with a smirk.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” I say.

“Only on the special ones, and so far that has only been you,” He said as he looked at me and smiled.

“Anyways, it was nice meeting you.” I said as I was closing the door. Tate stopped it with his hand.

“Can I see you again?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure.” I said as he smiled.

“Well than I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tate said cheerfully. I smiled back and closed the door. I was absolutely blown away that this cute guy was talking to me. Then, I felt even worse because I could never have a real relationship with him. I shook off the sad feeling and decided to go to bed. I fell asleep thinking of Tate.

The Next Day

         I woke up and took a shower. I went downstairs and looked in the fridge to see if I had anything to make for breakfast. I decided on making pancakes. I had just finishing making the pancakes and heard a knock at the door. I dropped everything and went to open it. I unlocked the door and opened it revealing Tate.

“Good morning! I smelled pancakes and decided to come over to see if you would be so kind and share them with me. Please?” He said with puppy dog eyes. I laughed and let him come in.

“Of course. How else am I going to make friends? The kitchen is down the hallway and to the left.” I said while I laughed.

“Gotcha. So shouldn’t you be like in school?” He asked. I came into the kitchen and placed some pancakes on his plate and then I sat next to him with my own plate filled with pancakes.

“Nope. I was home schooled throughout my life and so I didn’t go to college. What about you? Shouldn’t YOU be in school?” I asked while laughing.

“No I dropped out. Didn’t like school. I felt imprisoned so I had to get out.” Tate said. I nodded my head while we ate pancakes. “So why did you move here?”

“Things happened and I had to leave where I was.” I said while looking at my plate.

“Let me guess, ex boyfriend?” Tate said.

“Something like that.” I said as I smiled and looked down. I saw out of the corner of my eye Tate moving my hand to my cheek. “Don’t do that. I don’t want to hurt you.” I said as I moved myself out of hands reach.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Tate said. As he slowly retracted his hand looking embarrassed.

“It’s okay. I should tell you.” I took in a deep breath and told him my life story, right from the beginning, “So that is why I moved here. I apologize for not telling you the truth. It’s okay if you run away. Everyone does.” I say as I looked down and let out a soft chuckle. 

“Well I guess we do have something in common. I haven’t been completely honest with you either. Please don’t laugh or run off. What I’m about to tell you is true. I’m dead. So it’s okay if you touch me. I’m a ghost so you can’t do much damage to me anyways.” Tate says.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” I said with tears. Tate started to slowly approach me.

“The thing is, I’m not.” He brought his hand up to my cheek and kissed me deeply. It had been my first kiss and it was amazing. I pulled away and looked into his eyes.

“So you weren’t kidding huh?” I said laughing with tears. 

“No,” Tate said as he laughed. We kissed again and just stayed in each others arms for the rest of the day.

Two Years Later

“I love you Tate Langdon,” I said as I leaned in and kissed him deeply. 

“I love you even more, (Y/N),” Tate said as he pulled me in for another kiss. Life has been complete since that day. I’ve defintely have felt the most love I’ve ever received in my entire life. “(Y/N), you make me so happy. I am thrilled you moved in here.” Tate said.

“Tate Langdon, you’re the brightest light I’ve ever seen. There is nothing that could change the way I feel about you. I love you.” I said as I pulled him into another kiss. I died in the house. A robbery occurred and I was shot and killed. I was sort of happy because now I can spend forever with Tate, my love.

[nickireadstfc]

The Raven King, Chapter 7 – Next Stop: Backstory Central

In which Kevin and Neil have a heart-to-heart that feels like an aftershock of last chapter’s earthquake, Neil continues his quest to becoming an actual human being, and we unlock like fifty levels of backstory thanks to everyone’s favourite chatty gay sunshine.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

Have I recovered from the sass fest from last time?

No.

Are we going to plunge in straight again with yet another 3k+ chapter?

Yes.

Let’s go.

           “You want to tell me why you have a hard-on for antagonizing Riko?” Wymack asked.

           “He started it,” Neil muttered into his tortilla.

Reason number 4597265 why I love Wymack: He uses the exact same expressions I would.

A hard-on for antagonizing Riko, amazing. <3

           “How can you stand having a team like ours, Coach? Isn’t it exhausting dealing with us and our problems day after day?”

           Wymack emptied his coffee with one big gulp. “Nope.”

Reason number 1 why I love Wymack: THIS. FUCKING THIS.

My grumpy Hufflepuff vodka dad I love you so much.

#dicksoutforwymack, always.

Grumpy Hufflepuff vodka dad is starting to see through Neil’s bullshit, though. He confronts him about “not adding up right” and even asks him about why he’s such a smartass to the powerful Moriyamas, but flinches when Wymack makes a wrong hand movement.

And Neil – amazing! Such character development! – answers him honestly, saying he doesn’t trust men his father’s age on principle.

As a prize for Neil’s honesty, we get Wymack’s backstory in return – the first of many, many this chapter, I can promise you that.

           “You parents must be something else.”

           “So must be yours if you spend so much time on us,” Neil said.

           “They were,” Wymack agreed.

           “Oh,” Neil said. “Are they both dead?”

           Wymack looked amused by his tactlessness. “My mother OD’d almost ten years ago and my father lost a prison fight the first year I started here at Palmetto state. I hadn’t spoken to either of them since I left D.C.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Wymack’s family is just as fucked up as the Foxes’.

Cue generic “dude comes from broken home, tries to make a better home for younger folks in same situation” trope.

Cue me crying.

           “Sometimes the world feels so big, but then I’m reminded how small it is.”

           “Big or small, just remember that you’re not alone in it,” Wymack said. “You have your team, but that’s a double-edged sword. They’re there for you anytime you need them, and they’ll hold you up if you want them to, but you actions have consequences for all of them as well. The more you antagonize Riko, the harder you make things on them.”

And just as I was about comment on how emotional I’m getting over all the team feels – Neil goes and ends the feels time again.

           “Like with Seth,” Neil said. “I know.”

           Wymack stared at him for an endless minute, then said too quietly, “The fuck did you just say to me?”

Well…. Fuck.

Wymack is decidedly not liking Andrew’s theory over the Mysterious and Dramatic Death of one Seth Gordon. He tells Neil that whatever happened is not his fault, as Riko – whatever he may have done – definitely crossed a line, or two, or fifty, all armed with missiles and wire and Keep Out Riko, You Big Fucknut signs.

You know, what any sane human being could have told Neil chapters ago, but as we know homeboy doesn’t exactly surround himself with the sanest bunch of people.

Also, for the record, I think Andrew’s “theory” is entirely correct. But we’ll see.

Onwards to the stadium and to more interesting confrontation in this chapter: Neil vs Kevin vs Literal Years Of Repressed Childhoood Memories.

           “You’re not really him,” Kevin said so low Neil barely understood his words. “Tell me you aren’t really Nathaniel.” (…)

           “Don’t call me that. It doesn’t matter who I used to be. I’m Neil now.”

Damn, brain, back at it again with the trans!Neil headcanons.

MY SON.

           “I figured the chances of you remembering me were slim and I gambled on you not knowing the truth about my family.”

           “How could we not remember you?” Kevin asked.

Bitch, you literally did not remember him until violently reminded by the Ravens. Do not come  to me with that shit.

Today’s Casually Mentioned, Yet Heartbreakingly Sad Neil Fact is this:

           “My mother didn’t tell me why we were running,” Neil said. (…) “It was always about the weather or our current language or the local culture – the next time she had anything meaningful to say to me was when she was dying.”

I CREI.

Now, did you think we were done with all the plot twists and backstory developments last chapter?

Hell fuckin’ nope. There’s one crucial bit missing.

(And probably like a million more that I have no idea are yet to come, but let me enjoy a moment of “maybe we’re done now pls”.)

           “You father was Lord Kengo’s right hand man, the most trusted weapon in Lord Kengo’s arsenal. (…) You were supposed to be like me. You were a gift, another player for the master to train.”

FUCKING WHAT.

Oh jeez. Oh shit. Fuck, no.

This just takes the fucking cake, but it’s considerably less yummy birthday cake and more The Help-actual-shit-cake.

To sum this up:

Tiny baby Neil was given a chance to be recruited by the Moriyamas: If he played well enough they’d keep him as a pet, if he didn’t, his own father would personally kill him. His mother ran away with him before he could get to that tryout, yet never told him a thing about their actual situation – for no understandable reason. Neil’s life could have basically gone two directions: A youth prodigy Exy star raised on domestic abuse and crippling anxiety, or the isolated runaway with internalized trust issues he is now. And now that the Moriyamas know he’s still out there, they want to salvage their “lost property” and make him the Raven he was meant to be.

There is legit not one part of that paragraph I’m not yelling “WHAT THE FUCK” at.

What is happening?? The fuck??? THE FUCK?????

Area Girl Thought She’d Seen The Last Of This, What Happens Next Will Shock You:

Because what happens next is wonderful, wonderful character development.

           Neil crouched and pressed his hands to the orange paint. “I don’t want to run. I don’t want to be a Raven. I don’t want to be Nathaniel. I want to be a Fox. I want to play with you this year and I want us to make it to championships. And in spring when the Moriyamas come for me I’ll do what they’re so afraid I will. I’ll go to the FBI and tell them everything. Let them kill me. It’ll be too late by then.”

SHIT BOI.

FUCK ME THE FUCK UP.

Have I like……….. mentioned I love this boy recently?? Yes?? Good.

           Kevin was silent for an endless minute, then said, “You should be Court.”

           It was barely a whisper, but it cut Neil to the bone. It was a resentful goodbye to the bright future Kevin had wanted for Neil.

//cries for a million years.

Honestly, the Kevin/Neil dynamic just keeps fucking getting me, and these recent developments are not helping.

Ah, speaking of character dynamics I’d probably take a bullet for –

           “Andrew has neither purpose nor ambition,” Kevin said. “I was the first person who ever looked at Andrew and told him he was worth something. When he comes off these drugs and has nothing else to hold him up I will give him something to build his life around.”

//cries for a billion years.

So, their deal is “I protect you from your crazy ass abusers and their posse, in return you give me a future”?

I can work with that. I can also imagine there’s probably more to it. Let’s wait and see.

Onwards to better and brighter things:

A few interesting developments in Neil’s Quest to Becoming An Actual Human Being.

           For the first time in his life, Neil wasn’t thinking about the future. He stopped counting days until the Ravens’ match and scaled back on how much news he watched and read. He threw all of his energy into practices, stayed awake through most of his classes, and juggled his teammates as best as he could.

You guys have no, no idea how happy that sentence makes me.

Yes, my son. Go out there and have a life full of happy practices and healthy social interactions. <3

           He knew things about [his teammates] he’d never bothered to learn about anyone else in his entire life.

Scratch that part before, this sentence makes me so much happier.

IT’S MOTHER FLIPPIN’ BACKSTORY TIME.

I’ll sum things up for you.

Matt comes from a wealthy, but broken family, and has a history of drug abuse (which we knew already). His boxer mum is probably the most badass woman there is.

Renee was born Natalie, used to be in the foster system (same as Andrew!), and knows Dan from back in high school where they used to be Exy rivals. Wymack signed them both and they became fast friends afterwards.

Dan did stripping as a way to support her aunt and newborn cousin while in high school, and although she has cut ties with her family, she’s still in touch with her strip squad. Dan also wants to take over coaching the Foxes after Wymack retires.

In short: FUCK. YEAH.

A few chapters ago I was just complaining about all the backstory we don’t yet have, and now we’re getting ambushed by it.

I am loving this development.

Even Allison starts coming around! We don’t get her backstory yet (although we do kind of have some already – daughter of a wealthy and famous family wants to prove herself as her own person), but she makes steps towards being a little more okay. V nice. V good.

*whispers* I really want to like you please give me a reason to.

But ah, mes amis, did you think we were done yet? Fuck, no.

Welcome to the best part of this chapter: It’s Backstory Time – Special Minyard Edition.

           “The coffee that interesting?”

           Neil wondered if the Foxes secretly installed him with a tracking chip and turned towards Nicky’s voice.

Bahahahaha. Wouldn’t put it past [eyes Kevin and Andrew suspiciously] some of them.

They bump into Aaron and Katelyn on their first totally-not-a-date (I still give about 0.2 fucks about this relationship) and Nicky doesn’t crack any jokes about it – a miracle! – but instead starts to randomly give more insights into the Andrew-Aaron dynamic.

Not that I’m fucking complaining.

           “Andrew hates her, you know?”

           “Why?” Neil asked.

           “Because Aaron likes her,” Nicky said, as if that was obvious. (…) “Andrew’s not really big on the idea of Aaron’s happiness, see? So if Aaron likes Katelyn, Andrew doesn’t want him to have her. Andrew might smile awful bright but he is a master of childish spite.”

Haha, that rhymed.

Andrew might smile awful bright, But he is a master of childish spite. “I have been raised on fear and hate Let Aaron suffer an equal fate.” His problems could be solved, my friends And Andrew could start making sense If Neil would think in that direction: The dude just needs some love and affection.

Thank you, thank you. Autographs at stage door, please.

Poetry time over.

Prepare for ALL THE MINYARD BACKSTORY.

(Who are we kidding. There’s probably still more. Dear god help me.)

           “I told you Aunt Tilda gave Andrew up, right? That’s only half of it. Truth is she put both of them in the system at first. One week later she changed her mind. (…) Andrew went off to foster care and Aaron became to living reminder of Aunt Tilda’s guilt and failure. Aunt Tilda tried as hard as she could to not deal with Aaron at all.”

Ohhh shit. One Child Neglect to go please, coming right up.

Seriously, what is wrong with that woman. Either take both of them or take none of them. Don’t separate siblings, especially not twins. What the fuck is that “I’m feeling bad so I’ll take back one BUT not bad enough to take back two” bullshit.

           “I’m thinking that’s why he wouldn’t talk to Aaron when Aaron wrote to him. He was – justifiably, I think – pissed off.”

Well, fucking duh. I’d be pissed off, too. Of course, it would be more reasonable to be pissed that the mother, but I can’t exactly blame Andrew for not being instant BFFs with Aaron.

           “Aunt Tilda moved them cross-country, started drinking more than ever, and got heavy-handed with Aaron. Aaron got into all kinds of trouble in some sort of traumatized rebellion.”

Oh nooooo shit my dude, now I do feel bad for Aaron.

What sort of fuckery even are the Minyard’s lives.

           “[Dad] introduced Aaron to Andrew. That’s when things started moving. Andrew suddenly got motivated. He started behaving and toeing the line and got released on early parole about a year later.”

           “Andrew decided he wanted a brother after all,” Neil said. “So what went wrong?”

           “Aunt Tilda died, and Aaron blames Andrew.”

OH SHIT.

Basically, what happened was that Andrew was standing in for Aaron – damn Minyards, back at it again with the twin tricks! – and he was in the car with Tilda when she caused a car crash that killed her.

Why are their lives so dramatic. What the fuck.

           “Aaron can’t accept that she’s gone. He misses her. He can’t forgive Andrew, and Andrew doesn’t understand or care about how much it hurt Aaron. Stalemate.”

Well, doesn’t that sound like a wonderful brother match made in heaven.

However, Neil has some interesting insights to share on the whole fucked-up shebang:

           “Andrew did care. That’s what went wrong. (…) Andrew would have traced Aaron’s problems back to their mother. Maybe he didn’t kill her for giving him up. Maybe he did it to protect Aaron. (…) She was hurting Aaron, so Andrew stopped her.”

For someone who says he doesn’t care about Andrew, Neil has suspiciously good understanding of how Andrew’s brain works.

Like, better than people like Nicky and Aaron, who have known him for literal years.

Just sayin’.

Also, what the fuck.

Also: That explains the “maybe he’s afraid she’ll die on him like the last woman he really loved” from a few chapters back!! Don’t you just love it when things… [clenches fist] add up.

           “I’ve realized I can’t fix it on my own. I hate to say it, but I wish Renee would hurry up and make her move.” (…)

           “What? I thought you didn’t like her.”

           Nicky bolted upright like Neil struck him. “Who doesn’t like Renee?”

TAGGED #ME. MY DAUGHTER. DESERVING OF ALL THE LOVE.

Apparently, if we believe Nicky, my beloved platonic goalie BFFs ship is a lot less platonic than I thought – at least from Renee’s perspective.

Idk how I feel about this. Could be problematic. But could also be cute and very beneficial for Andrew, and my sweet murder snowflake does seem like she could handle his shit.

…Alright, who are we kidding. The latter. I love this dynamic in every way, haters to the left.

However, Neil proves once again that he has about the emotional capacity of a brick, and offers the only solution to any problem he knows:

           “What about Exy?”

ARE YOU FOR REAL.

           “Exy isn’t an option here, okay? You can love Exy all you want, it’s never gonna love you back.”

           “So?”

           “Oh my God.” Nicky looked torn between horror and pity. “Seriously? That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Same, Nicks.

Nicky tries talking some sense into Neil and pointing out that Exy can’t be your end-all-be-all for an emotionally healthy future, but Neil quickly derails him with Nicky’s favourite subject: Gay Talk™.

           “Why don’t you like girls?” (…)

           “They’re so soft.”

           Neil thought about Renee’s bruised knuckles, Dan’s fierce spirit, and Allison holding her ground on the court a week after Seth’s death. (…) He felt compelled to say, “Some of the strongest people I’ve known are women.”

Bless feminist Neil.

(Nicky, of course, didn’t mean it like that and was talking about literally being soft, curves and all.)

And then – did you think we were done with backstory for today?

Because there’s one bugger still missing.

           “There’s religious and there’s super psychotic religious. Me and Renee, we’re the decent sort, I think. (…) But my parents are the black-and-white-crazy kind.”

Oh, shit no.

As it turns out, Nicky (bless his heart) tried coming out to his parents despite their fanatism, which promptly resulted in them sending him to bible camp and tried to shame the gay out of him, which resulted in Nicky being hardcore depressed and suicidal.

MY SON. FUCK NO.

What saved him was Germany – being abroad and having someone showing him how to balance faith and sexuality. And as much as I love this development and I’m happy for them, I can’t get over one thing:

The guy is called Erik Klose. As in, German football superstar Miroslav Klose. And I can’t get over the mental image of Nora being like “oh well, I need a German surname, guess I’ll just take a look at the football squad from that year, ah yes perfect, that one.”

It’s not even that funny, but I now cannot ever take Erik seriously.

Nicky, of course, reins the conversation back to Neil needing to have healthy emotional bonds with someone at some point, which makes Neil end the conversation altogether.

Except for one last thing- is that a sliver of – gasp! – actual Andreil I see at the horizon?

           For a moment Neil wondered. There was only one person in the world strong enough for all of Neil’s problems, and she was dead now. (…) Andrew, though, nodded in the face of his burden and told Neil to stay. He stood his ground when neil asked him for murder and gave him a key to their house.

           But that didn’t count, because Andrew was Andrew, and this was definitely the last turn he needed his thoughts to take.

:’)))))))))))))))))))) I’m fine.

If you like what I do here and you want to help me continue writing, please consider buying me a coffee! Thank you so much <3

[ruffsficstuffplace]

Of Rocks, Romantic Rivalries, and Rune Rangers (Part 7): Invitations and Trepidation

Pidge and Hunk spent the rest of the afternoon repairing the titans and making prototypes for defenses against sonic attacks like Mero’s singing.

Though modifying their gear and the giant constructs was as easy as changing values and drafting designs on a terminal and letting the magic of the runes do the rest, making up entirely new magitech far beyond the boundaries of what both the humans and the Fae had achieved was still no mean feat.

They called it for the day at six. The titans were fully repaired and recharging their power cores for the next fight, while a team of golems tried to recreate the exact frequency of Mero’s singing for testing whether or not the new upgrades would hold up in practice as they did in theory.

<Not looking forward to hearing that tomorrow...> Hunk muttered as they cleaned up the empty bottles, cartons, and boxes of snacks they’d left around their work space.

<Who would be?> Pidge asked as she vacuumed up the crumbs and stray bits, then polished the counters till they were gleaming once more. <At least we can test it by blasting the golems instead of one of us—her ‘song’ is still ringing in my head.>

<I’ve been meaning to ask you what it was like under her spell, actually,> Hunk said as he put his armload of trash onto a teleporter. <You know, if it’s not too traumatic to bring up.>

Pidge winced. <How do I describe it...> she said as she opened up the supply cabinet. <It’s like having an off-key, tone-deaf voice in your head screeching the most annoyingly catchy song imaginable, and the it’s saying the only to get it to stop is to do everything the lyrics tell you to, and yet it doesn’t:

<It just gets worse and worse, and you just keep on following the lyrics anyway.>

<What was she saying?> Hunk asked as he pressed a button, and the trash disappeared through a rip in reality.

Pidge shrugged. <She wasn’t singing words, exactly, it was like how the titans talk to us: ideas, suggestions, emotions,> she said as she put the vacuum and the cleaning supplies back in their proper places. <If I had to hazard a translation, part of it would definitely go ‘Like, obey me, doucheschnozzle!’>

Hunk laughed, but he stopped and looked at her in worry soon after. <Are you okay, Pidge?>

Pidge sighed as she closed the closet. <No. Not going to be for a long, long while.>

Hunk walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. <You want to talk about it?>

Pidge turned to him then shook her head. <No offense to you, Hunk, but I don’t want to weigh you down with all this heavy stuff right now, we’re both pretty brain-fried from all that protyping.>

Hunk frowned. <Alright, but promise me you’re not going to keep it all to yourself again?>

Pidge smiled and held up her hand. <I promise! Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson about keeping secrets from my friends.>

Hunk smiled. <Good. Thought we’re going to have to do that whole song and dance again back when you were still working for Jahilliyah…>

<That time of my life is over, Hunk,> Pidge said. <I’m a Rune Ranger now. One of the good guys.>

But as Hunk bid her goodbye, and left to go cook dinner, she had to wonder: was it really over…?

“… No, ma’am, I’m afraid, I can not guarantee you that Keith will be your son’s temporary boyfriend for the entirety of his birthday,” Allura said as she sat at her seat in the Core, in front of the terminal built into her part of the table.

“Ma’am, Keith is a living, breathing Avalonian with rights and feelings just like you or me: he’s not property to be rented out willy-nilly!” Her eyes widened. She chewed her lip for a moment, before she quietly sighed, and said, “That is a very generous sum indeed, ma’am, but I’m afraid there is just no price that can be paid for Keith or the time of any of us.

“We’re the Defenders of Avalon, not a companion service.

“Besides, what if Zarkon’s forces decide to use the opportunity to attack Keith, have your son caught in the collateral damage? Would risking his safety and that of his guests really be worth it?” Allura paused. “Really now? Well, yes, I have heard of Crossfire-Cam, but I never—no, ma’am, I will still have to—ma’am, I’m truly very sorry, but my decision remains unchanged:

“Keith nor any of the other Rangers cannot be contracted for their time and presence, for companionship or any other reason.”

There was a long pause. “Ma’am, those situations were our voluntarily offering ourselves to the cause or the organization involved, we weren’t paid to appear at those events; any sort of monetary value assigned to our presence and the profits from the publicity and the exposure is not indicative of any sort of transaction nor payment.”

Allura frowned. “Ma’am, for security and privacy reasons, no, I cannot give you Keith’s private comm-line… no, I will not pass the message on, either.” She bit back a sigh. “Good day, my fellow Avalonian,” she said, before she cut the line.

She groaned, let her head hit the table. <Oh, Eluna, what happened these past 1,000 years?>

Coran sighed as he worked on the paperwork for some of the approved damage claims. “Lots of things, apparently, quite a few of them negative! Honestly, I never thought I’d ever see the day when you’d save a person’s life, and they’d still sue you for the Sentinel accidentally stepping over their car.”

“Suppose we’ll just have to deal with it, as we always do...” Allura muttered as she lifted her head-up, and reluctantly turned her attention back to her terminal’s screen.

She was about to answer another damage claim—seriously, did all those businesses have a rotating, dedicated staff on-hand to insistently call whoever had wronged them in any way?--when she noticed a new message icon.

It was from Pidge, separated from the others and easily distinguished by the icon of a green chinchilla with a paper envelope in its mouth.

The right thing to do would have been to ignore it and keep on working, read it later when she and Coran had both called it a day with sorting out the inevitably messy aftermath of a Galra attack. It couldn’t have been a priority message, either, as if it were, it would have automatically opened.

But, like so many others before her, she couldn’t help but get curious and click the icon.

The message was simple: <Hey Allura, can I come over to your room and talk with you after dinner, just the two of us?>

The emotions Allura felt afterward was a complex mishmash, overlapping and crashing into each other: Surprise, Elation, Curiosity, Worry, Fear, Confusion, Dread, and finally, Panic.

Coran looked up from manually putting in the few details Pidge’s “paper golems” couldn’t deal with, noticed Allura’s distress, her ears pulled back in worry and beads of sweat already appearing on her forehead.

<Your highness!> he cried as he rushed over to her. <Are you alright?!>

Allura tried to say <I’m fine!> but all she managed was look at Coran with terrified eyes, then point at the message like it was a giant, vicious banana tiger that had appeared in a plantation deep within the walls of Fae settlement.

Coran looked at the screen, and read Pidge’s message. <Ah.>

<She sent this an hour ago!> Allura cried. <An hour!>

<Fret not, your highness!> Coran said. <I’m certain Pidge understands that we’ve been terribly busy here at the Core, and wouldn’t blame you for taking your time responding!>

<How am I supposed to? Do that. Reply to her!> Allura sputtered, feeling all of her years of training in social norms, diplomatic protocol, and grace and wit fly out the window, then die horrible, messy deaths on the street outside. <I mean, this could be anything! Does she just want a friendly chat between us? Is this something much more serious? Or is this her way of trying to make a move, get the two of us alone and somewhere private?

<Do I say yes? Do I say no…? What do I do?!>

<Well, first, I have to ask: do you wish to speak with her in private later?> Coran asked.

Allura groaned. <I do, but there’s still so much work to be done here!> she said, gesturing at the messages still flooding their comm-lines.

Coran beamed and put a hand on his chest. <Leave that to me! They’ll all still be persistently hounding us tomorrow, this is an opportunity that you might not have again! This could be your chance, Allura: make your move, tell her how you really feel, do what Shiro’s been trying and failing to all this time!>

Allura looked at the number of pending communication requests, then at Coran. <Are you sure you can handle this, Coran?> she asked.

Coran looked as grimly determined as a man about to dive deep into the thick of customer service could be. <For you, your highness? I will take on anything.>

Allura smiled. <Thank you, Coran, I am forever in your debt.>

Coran waved her off. <You just go get yourself and your quarters ready for your talk with Pidge! Starting with messaging her back and telling her yes, you will see her back at your room.>

Allura turned back to her terminal, started making a reply. <Right...>

Had the message been from any of the other Rangers—even Shiro—Allura would have made and sent a message back in a heartbeat, warm and friendly, with a reminder that she always available any time they needed her.

As it was from Pidge, she spent the next half hour nervously bent over the holo-keypad of her terminal, discussing and working out her reply with Coran, with all the graveness of a situation room in the middle of a prolonged and brutal war.

<Is the smiley face at the end too much?> Allura asked, her ears drooping in worry. <Maybe it’s too much. Especially because this could be a request for a serious talk, and that might make her think that I think this is going to just be a friendly chat, and then she’d just cancel and find someone else to talk with, and that might end up being Shiro and-->

Coran put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. <And I think that maybe you should keep the smiley face, add a personal touch to it. That’s how you show interest, don’t you? Give them the special treatment, go the extra mile where you wouldn’t with others.>

Allura frowned. <True…> She sighed. <Eluna, I feel like a teenaged girl panicking over her crush asking her out on a date!> she paused. <… Which isn’t entirely inaccurate, now that I’ve said it out loud...>

<Just calm down, Princess, and we’ll send her the best reply you can give,> Coran said.

And so they returned to discussing Allura’s reply, refining it, editing it, making sure that it conveyed exactly what she wanted it to, and that there wasn’t anything that could be misinterpreted or confuse Pidge in any way, shape or form, till she had the absolutely purest heart of her message, with just the right amount of personal touch and extra effort, without getting too blatant or desperate.

<Sure, Pidge. :)>

<’Brevity is wit,’ to quote one of the Old World’s great writers,> Coran said as Allura sent it.

She sighed as she looked at the holo-display; never had she thought the animation of one of her mice taking an enveloped into their mouth and scurrying off could make her so anxious.

<Message sent!> said Actaeon text on the screen as the mouse stopped and looked quite pleased with themselves.

<There...> she said as she slumped back into her seat. <It’s done. Now all I can do is wait… should I ask her to message me back?>

<Best not,> Coran replied. <There’s really no inconsuspicious reason for you to do so, and when she figures that out, it might strike a match to that legendary curiosity of hers. Then, there’d be no stopping her from prying you open instead of opening up to you.>

Allura nodded. <And here I thought courtship was complicated 1,000 years ago...>

Coran patted her again. <Just be yourself and prepare the best you can, your highness. You know: fluff up your nest, spritz something soothing into the air, maybe even doll yourself up and ‘get into something more comfortable’ as they say in Nivian.>

Allura blushed. <Coran!> she cried.

Coran looked confused. <What? What’d I say?>

<Your suggesting me and Pidge--!> she made a sexy animal noise.

Coran blinked. <When did I say that?>

<’Slip into something more comfortable’ is a euphemism for changing into lingerie, clothes more suitable for>--she made a sexy animal noise--<or just outright stripping naked,> Allura explained, cheeks still burning.

<Is it now? My goodness, only in Nivian could something so innocent and innocuous be given such a lewd spin...> he said as he shook his head.

<Just don’t use it again, Coran…> Allura muttered.

Coran smiled. <I won’t. And if I may point out, it seems you’ve been spending far too much time among the human settlements, too.>

Allura groaned. <I’m leaving!> she said as she got up and made haste for the door. <Good luck with the calls, Coran!>

<And good luck with your and Pidge’s ‘tête-à-tête!’> Coran said as he walked back to his terminal, put his headset back on, and forced a smile on his face. “Rune Terra, home of the Rune Rangers! This is Coran, Maiden Allura’s personal servant speaking, how may I help you...?”

[themillenniumscribe]

Yu-Gi-Oh: Brilliancy (30)

Her name is Clarisa Swansea. She was born in Hong Kong to a wealthy yet loving family, a father, mother, and two older sisters. A competitive beast in women’s lacrosse with a pretty face to match, there was no mistaking that she was striving for greatness far beyond any expectations. But, when one accident took her family along with her mobility, her life took an intriguing turn into the world of chess.

“Hieratic text, you say? I take it they don’t teach that in just any Egyptian course?”  ” Clarisa clicked her tongue thoughtfully, pressing the receiver closer to her ear. It felt strange having her head sandwiched between a phone and frozen corn. It was definitely not one of her finer moments in life.

“You would be right. Most Egyptians don’t speak it on a daily basis. Fortunately, I had a very reliable source to assist in the translation while I was designing the Egyptian God cards.” Pegasus took a swig from his wine glass. Clarisa couldn’t see it from over the phone but there was enough silence to confirm her theory. She could also hear the faint plop of his glassware on the line.

“You wouldn’t happen to remember the exact translation, would you?” He chuckled and Clarisa heard him getting up from his chair.

“I would be a poor archeologist if I didn’t take notes on my research.”

“And an even poorer artist.” Clarisa remarked cheekily. She heard Pegasus laugh and a few pages flipping in a notebook.

“Here it is.” He said smoothly, clearing his throat. “Would you prefer just the translation or do you want the original format as well?”

“You know, I could use some entertainment.” Clarisa admitted, trying desperately to keep her lips from curling into a smirk. The swelling on her face ached when she was smiling too hard, even though her makeshift ice pack had numbed it considerably. Pegasus sighed.

“I’m not exactly sure how entertaining it will be for you. My pronunciation of Hieratic text is quite abysmal.”

“But your melodious voice is such a joy in itself.” Her own vocal timbre was sickly sweet. “I’m sure that makes up for your lack of diction.”

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming.” She could hear the dryness in his tone but there was a spark of amusement. She remembered that Pegasus always did enjoy a bit of light bantering.

“Whenever you’re ready, my dear.” Pegasus pressed after another mouthful of liquor.

“Just a second,” Clarisa stated swiftly. “With all of Kaiba’s modern marvels, you would think he would have a pen and paper stashed somewhere.”

“Didn’t you look up my number on a computer?” Pegasus interjected with a grin. “Most people would just type it into a document and call it a day.”

“You with your logic…” She muttered with a glower, clicking on one of the word applications. Placing the corn on her lap, she switched the receiver to her left side and pinched it between her cheek and shoulder. A curse or two slipped through but it left her hands free to type.

“Whisk me away with your words, my darling!”  

Chuckling, Pegasus read her the Hieratic text, proving that he was indeed terrible at pronouncing this ancient language. But, true to Clarisa’s word, it was still as entertaining as she expected. She pulled her lips back between her teeth, trying desperately not to giggle when he finished his flamboyant monologue.

“Satisfied, my dear?” He purred. Clarisa nodded, stifling a snort.

“Alright. And the translation?” She prepared her hands for the worst.

“According to the text, it roughly translates to ‘Almighty protector of the sun and sky, I beg of thee, please heed my cry. Transform thyself from orb of light and bring me victory in this fight. I beseech thee, grace our humble game. But, first, I shall call out thy name.’” Pegasus paused for a few minutes. “I’m sure you can finish the rest?” 

“That’s hardly a rough translation but, I’ll take it.” She replied, finding incredible relief when she finished typing. She switched the receiver back into her right hand, resuming her corn-head-phone sandwich status.

“Now, can you tell me all of the details about this card? What makes it so special and what kind of things does it do?”

“Why the sudden interest in Duel Monsters? You didn’t really strike me as the duelist type.” Clarisa didn’t like his tone, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I’m not. However, I’m currently in the throes of Kaiba’s tournament and there seems to be a lot of commotion about these God Cards. I want to know why. Since you were the one who made Duel Monsters and designed the cards, I thought you would be able to tell me more about them.”

“That I can,” He replied matter-of-factly. “Though, I have to admit that I don’t remember all of the details off hand. Would sending you the card information I have on file be of use?”

“Not only of use but I’m sure Mr. Kaiba would kiss you full on the mouth for it.”

“Ooh,” Pegasus mused. “That sounds rather tempting.”

“I would pay to see that.” A smile was starting curl even further on her lips. 

“You wouldn’t have to pay me.” If Pegasus’ mission was to reduce Clarisa into a fit of giggles, he certainly was getting close. It took her a moment to catch her breath so she could respond.

 “Just send it to his email.” She stated through her chortling. “I’ll let him know it was from you.”

“No need! I’ll send it from my personal email so he knows.”

“Please tell me it will be filled with plenty of ‘X’s and ‘O’s?” Pegasus’ voice went completely deadpan.

“All of them, my dear Risa.”

She couldn’t stop snickering, even after they said their goodbyes. Placing down the receiver, she made a quick search for any email server in the system. It took her only a moment to find it and, to her dismay, it was logged in. She couldn’t help but smile at her fortune.

Once the server was open, Clarisa minimized the window, leaning back in her chair to await the arrival of Pegasus’ message. To her distaste, she could feel driblets of condensation flowing down her neck and into the collar of her shirt.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarisa registered a figure was standing at the door. She removed the corn and tossed it their direction.

“Put that back in the freezer, Charles. I think it’s done all it can do for my face.”

“Has it, now?”

That was not Charles. Sighing softly, Clarisa shifted her gaze to find a very bright azure glare staring back at her. The corn that she threw was in his right hand just a little under eye level and the man it was supposed to go to was smirking just behind the coat wearing drama queen.

“Good catch,” She stated flatly, her blue eyes returning to the screen. “Do you mind passing it to the man I actually wanted?”

“What are you doing in here?” Kaiba handed over the corn, storming in quickly with Mokuba trotting in at his heels. He didn’t seem very pleased. Perhaps he lost the duel?

“I was keeping Mokuba company while he got the translation for the Winged Dragon of Ra,” She crossed her arms over her chest but didn’t turn her head to look at him. “Did you know that you were already signed into your email?”

“I was signed into your username because mine wasn’t working,” Mokuba seemed to be trying to smooth over Kaiba’s ruffled feathers. His words satiated Kaiba’s agitation for the time being, the azure glare softening lightly. Kaiba’s lips parted to speak.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t go through and mess with any of the important programs.” Clarisa interrupted. “I looked up your contacts, accessed Word, and your email. That’s all.”

“Why did you need to go through my contacts?” He inquired, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Your system was taking too long with the translation. So, I did what any normal person would do and called Pegasus.” Clarisa wasn’t sure if Kaiba was surprised by her initiative or wanted to strangle her.

“You called Pegasus?” Mokuba stammered, eyeing his brother carefully.

“Well, he is your best resource considering that he designed the cards in the first place.” Clarisa’s shoulders stiffened defensively. “Besides, if I know Pegasus, and I do, he did plenty of research and has notes on every card that he has ever designed. Instead of hacking through the entire I2 database and spending hours looking over files, I just asked him to send over the specific information you needed.”

A bell dinged on the computer screen. Before Clarisa could even look back at the screen, Kaiba shooed her out of the way and took his place in front of the keyboard. She wanted to be offended but, after spending as much time as she had with the CEO, she was used to his rudeness.

Wordlessly, he opened up his email server and revealed the email Clarisa had been waiting for.

“An email from Pegasus…” Mokuba whispered with intrigue.

“Yes, Mokuba,” Clarisa murmured. “I think all of us in this room have the gift of literacy.”

Once Kaiba opened the message, Clarisa had to pinch her lips between her teeth and cover both her nose and mouth. She didn’t want to laugh but the sight of the ‘x’s and ‘o’s brought back the earlier conversation she had with Pegasus.

“Did you tell him to do this?” Kaiba’s voice was tense and he glowered at her. For fear of bursting into laughter, all Clarisa could do was shake her head. It didn’t seem to satisfy him but Clarisa was relieved to see him turn his attention to the attachment.

It was everything Clarisa was looking for. It had an image of the card itself along with the card stats, the Hieratic text, and the special effects of the monster laid out in plain detail. She made a mental note to thank Pegasus later for providing the card details.

“Wow…It has everything.” Mokuba peeped, his face brightening.

“Not everything,” Clarisa corrected. “The translation for the Hieratic text isn’t included. But, if you look at the Word document_”

“I don’t need it.” The smiles on Mokuba and Clarisa’s faces faded.

“What?” She inquired gently.

“I don’t need it. I can read it.” Frowning, Clarisa turned her head to inquire further on Kaiba’s sudden revelation. However, her irritation softened when she saw the shock behind his eyes. Clearly, he was surprised by this revelation.

“…I take it this is new for you?” She murmured gently, breaking Kaiba’s concentration. He returned his attention to her, glaring for a moment before his eyes locked in on the left side of her face.

“What happened?” Clarisa could have sworn that was concern on his voice.

“Nothing,” She pushed the lie out hastily and her attempted departure was even more so. Unfortunately, Kaiba was much quicker, blocking her escape with his left arm.

“What happened?” He repeated, sterner this time. Clarisa was a bit flattered by his worry but something didn’t sit right with her.

“People are being placed in full blown comas and your biggest concern is a bruise on my face?”

“I have a general knowledge of why they are falling into comas.” He replied unflinchingly. “The bruise on your face is another matter.” 

“I had no idea my face was so important to you.” Clarisa replied cautiously.

“As I have told you before, I protect my investments.”

“Then, I recommend investing in things that need your protection.” She clapped back sternly, her blue eyes beginning to burn. “I have my own set of staff that do the job just fine.”

“Yes, and we can see how that panned out.” Kaiba made a point to look over the left side of her face, making the woman feel more objectified than she already was. It took everything she had not to smack the smugness out of the CEO. Instead, she forced his arm out of her way and left before she could further regret ever helping that damn boy.